Weathering the Whispers
by Eady of Old
Summary: After her release from prison, Anna must not only live with the uncertainty of her husband's fate, but she must also confront the fact that her attack has become public knowledge. Oneshot set at the end of S5.


**Weathering the Whispers**

 **Summary:** After her release from prison, Anna must not only live with the uncertainty of her husband's fate, but she must also confront the fact that her attack has become public knowledge. Oneshot set at the end of S5.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Downton Abbey. If anyone was under the impression that I did, I may have a good deal on bridge to sell you...

 **A/N: This story came out of a discussion about how much the show skipped over the time following Anna's release from prison, and the question of whether everyone knew about what Green did to her. It also delves into her feelings about Bates' absence in this time.**

* * *

The whispers bothered her the most. Hallboys and junior housemaids would tell secrets behind her back, when they thought she could not hear, but Anna knew all about it. She knew from her own time as a housemaid how certain stories traveled faster than telegrams, and with each retelling they were embellished that much more.

Her own story was too juicy to be left alone.

And perhaps she could have ignored the talk of her arrest, of the time she'd spent in prison awaiting trial for murder. She'd endured the whispers and rumors well enough after Mr. Bates was taken away in handcuffs, so this was only a variation on a familiar theme. But the talk did not end there.

Alex Green had been popular downstairs at Downton and his sudden death upset some of those who had made a brief acquaintance with him. The fact that Anna was arrested for his murder when everyone believed he'd died accidentally set tongues to wagging. And in the end, Anna's alleged motive for killing the man exposed her biggest secret.

Rape.

The word followed her like a bad smell throughout the house, echoing down long corridors and through closed doors. Anna knew that they knew. Those who remembered her appearance the morning after the concert made inferences and assumptions, which in this particular case happened to be true. At least she was spared from rumors that she and Mr. Green were lovers. Those would have hurt even more.

The younger women avoided meeting her gaze. Even Madge, who used to be friendly with Anna, scarcely spoke two words to her. It was as though what Green had done to her was catching and they might fall victim to the same fate if they associated too closely with her.

But Miss Baxter treated her kindly, and Mrs. Hughes was her ever supportive self. In fact, Anna could hardly stand to be near either of the women as they suffered under their own burdens of guilt for Mr. Bates' having confessed and left Downton. The housekeeper felt badly that she had given away the coat which contained the ticket stub from York to London which might have proven his innocence. And of course the other lady's maid bitterly regretted having involved them with the police.

It was all too much for Anna to deal with alone, their guilt, along with the ostracism of the others and the constant fear Mr. Bates would be found and arrested. He'd be hung if they found him - she knew that with certainty. And it would all be her fault, just as she'd always feared. Anna wanted to believe she'd have gladly spent the rest of her life in prison rather than face such a fate, but prison had been difficult for her. She felt weaker than she ever had before and hated herself for it.

Among the household staff, only one person ever made her feel less alone with her thoughts: Daisy. The assistant cook had always been awkward with the expression of her thoughts and emotions, so she often let them go unspoken. Rather, she sat with Anna at the servant's hall table in spare moments, bringing the quiet lady's maid a cup of steaming tea and one for herself.

Across from them, Madge deliberately kept her eyes on some mending and after a few moments, stood up to leave the room entirely. Anna did not watch her go.

"It isn't right, the things they say," Daisy muttered angrily to her companion. "They wouldn't like others talking about _them_."

With a shrug of her shoulder, Anna responded, "They can't really understand. No one can."

The other woman seemed pensive for a moment, obviously agreeing that she herself could not understand. But after a moment, she went on, "Still, it's wrong to be so unkind. You're always nice as can be to everyone else."

The observation reminded Anna of Green, of the man she thought had been so genial and interesting. Regret had a way of fraying the edges of memories, of dulling the details and showing her only what she should have noticed. Through that lense, her kindness seemed like a curse.

Banishing such thoughts from her mind, Anna afforded Daisy a grateful smile. "I suppose we're to be reminded from time to time who our real friends are. So tell me about your studies then."

The assistant cook was morose over that subject at first, but after a bit of kneadling began to chatter on with some animation about history and arithmetic until Mrs. Patmore deemed her break to have expired and bellowed for her to return to the kitchen. But as she left Anna's side, the younger woman placed a hand on her shoulder for a few seconds.

Anna was surprised how much that simple gesture helped.

* * *

As she hated being at the cottage alone, Anna often spent her spare hours in the mornings and evenings at the house. If she arrived early enough, it was only her, Daisy, and Mrs. Patmore awake and she would sit in the kitchen with them as they began preparing the day's meals. If the cook had heard the rumors about Anna's history with Green, she gave no indication of them, and for once Anna felt grateful for the woman's brash constancy.

But Daisy treated her more kindly, asking questions and chatting amicably. Anna found that she missed having someone to just talk to naturally with Mr. Bates gone. It made her feel... normal. Or as normal as she could be given her situation.

"So are the police done with you then?" Mrs. Patmore asked bluntly one morning, a few weeks after her release.

"Mister Murray thinks they won't pursue things for now," Anna answered her truthfully, "not with Mister Bates and his confession still out there."

Daisy frowned at the batter she was whipping as she observed, "Too bad he can't come home for Christmas."

Rather than making her sad, the other woman's comment actually made Anna feel a little better, that her emotions were acknowledged by someone rather than avoided or covered up. "I wish he could as well," she said, "but it won't be the first Christmas we've spent apart."

The women said nothing in response, and they all lapsed into a companionable silence punctuated by conversation between Daisy and Mrs. Patmore. Anna took comfort from the everyday interactions, reminding herself that the world had not ended just because Mr. Bates was away.

Away.

She'd used the same term to describe when he was in prison, but now he truly was away and she knew not where. He had not left her a letter when he departed, only his confession to the police and a line in his note to his Lord Grantham, which his lordship had shared with her: "Please tell Anna I love her."

The reminder was unnecessary, but she treasured it all the same. Her husband's love was the one constant in her life, the knowledge which helped her to find sleep at night even when the threat of nightmares kept her from snuffing out the candle. But it was also the reason he had been forced to leave and might mean his ultimate sacrifice if he was caught.

He'd confessed to save her. The knowledge reminded her too much of what he'd done for Vera, of the time in prison he'd lost then. That she was now the same as his first wife stung Anna's pride and her notion of justice. But she had no way to fight it, no way to contact him or to prove both of their innocence.

"Perhaps I should just tell them it was me after all," she confided to Mrs. Hughes one day when it all became too much. Her husband was still missing, and her worry for him had begun to blot out all other considerations.

"You won't help Mister Bates by confessing to a crime you did not commit," the housekeeper told her stoutly, betraying no surprise at the suggestion, only disapproval.

"I just want him home." With a sniffle, she added, "And I want him to be safe."

"You must have patience, my dear."

Mrs. Hughes patted her arm, but the gesture only reminded Anna of how devoid she'd been of human contact since she'd been arrested in London. And the memories of the York prison still haunted her. The vacant eyed women were even worse than the violent and angry ones, and Anna could see herself becoming one or the other if she was forced to stay there for too long.

"It seems wrong sometimes, that so many horrible things have befallen us," Anna said, resigned. "As though maybe I've done something to anger God."

Mrs. Hughes' shoulders slumped as she heard this comment, and after taking a deep breath, she insisted, "You've done nothing wrong. I don't pretend to know God's will in this or anything else, but I cannot imagine this being any sort of punishment."

Nodding at such wisdom, Anna swallowed back her tears and said sadly, "Everyone knows now - about what he did to me. I can hear them talking."

"Who do you hear talking?"

The housekeeper's demand was sharp and crisp, both angry for Anna's sake and indignant that those in her charge might behave so deplorably.

"Everyone."

Lady Mary was ever her champion, but she'd reported that even those upstairs had gotten wind of Anna's history. Inspector Vyner had showed little restraint in flaunting his theories regarding Green's death, and given the accusations against the dead man, it was not difficult for any right-minded person to make the connection. And Anna's behavior during that time period only confirmed her violation.

"Well, I'll have none of that in this house," Mrs. Hughes said sternly, although her unease reflected in her body language, in the hesitance in her expression and the way her hands came together as if she needed to steady herself.

Anna knew that the housekeeper couldn't stop it, not even if she dedicated herself to trying. And ultimately, the more she might do to try and end the rumors would only provide greater fuel for them in the long run. Despite the embarrassment and burning shame, Anna knew she had to face it. She could not hide away from the world and pretend it had never happened, at least not any longer. In a way, it felt strangely cleansing to have it all out in the open, with no more secrets from those around her.

* * *

As Christmas neared, Anna found it more difficult to make it up to the house amid the snow on the ground. While Mrs. Hughes suggested that she could stay in one of the servant's rooms at the house, Anna was loathed to leave her cottage, even if it felt frightfully empty without Mr. Bates' presence. She had been apart from him, but never at the cottage alone, and she discovered that the old building made eerie sounds she had never before noticed. The winter wind on the roof sounded like moans and the shutters rattled at odd times of night.

By contrast, Downton looked beautiful. The decorations were brought out and an enormous tree put up in the main hall. Anna knew she should focus on finding small gifts for the other servants, at least for those who had treated her so kindly since her release from prison, but she hated going to the village. Ever since her release from prison, the townspeople would whisper behind raised hands and with arched eyebrows. Some asked her questions outright, like the mouthy post mistress who butted into everyone's business. One shop keeper had even refused to serve her when she did try to buy a small parcel of French oil for Daisy. In the end, it was easier to go to Ripon for any items she needed. Fewer people knew her there.

But she quickly discovered that not everyone was against her.

Anna hadn't known about Mr Molesley and Miss Baxter visiting the pubs in York to try and prove her husband's alibi, not until they found something. A couple of weeks before Christmas, Lord Grantham called her into the library to inform her of the intelligence they'd gathered.

"A Mister Salter remembers meeting Bates on that day at the pub in York. He remembers him specifically because they spoke about their time in South Africa. The time period makes it impossible for Bates to have gone to London that day, and the man will swear to it," his Lordship told her. "I've spoken with Murray, and he's getting the information to the police to try and clear Bates."

Her lower lip trembling, Anna asked, "But won't they re-arrest me then, if we prove he didn't do it?"

The fear shot through her along with a wave of disgust with herself. Prison had made her selfish, to think of her own fate rather than her husbands, but she could not deny the terror of being sent back to that place. But another more rational part of her mind told her that her husband would never allow such a thing. He would keep her safe, no matter what he had to do.

"Murray doesn't think so. After Bates' confession, the witness apparently became quite unsure about what he saw. Of course Murray can make no promises, but they shouldn't arrest you again."

Relieved by this news, Anna lamented that she had no way of reaching her husband. While he'd told her of his relatives in Ireland, she had no names or addresses for them. And even so, she worried that if she did manage to contact him, that he might be re-arrested when he returned to England, whatever Murray said to the contrary.

"Thank you, milord. You've been very kind, with everything."

Lord Grantham's face softened into a smile as he looked at his daughter's lady's maid. "As much as I'd like to take all of the credit, it is really Molesley and Baxter who deserve your thanks."

* * *

"You needn't thank us," Molesley said stoically, although his pride showed through the edges of his upright, first footman manner. "Just doing what we could. One good turn deserves another, you know. And Mister Bates has done me a good turn a time or two."

Anna smiled at him, wondering if he knew about the thirty pounds her husband had procured and gotten to him by subterfuge to help him with his debts after Matthew Crawley's death. Beside the man stood Miss Baxter, also smiling gently at her. Anna had always liked the woman, had always felt her warm and genuine, although their interactions since the police investigation began had been strained.

She said to them both, "I really don't know how I can ever repay you - either of you."

"No such thanks is needed," Miss Baxter told her. "As Mister Molesley said, one good turn deserves another. And I think you and Mister Bates are due for a good turn."

Bobbing her head in gratitude, Anna afforded them both another smile. The corners of her lips stayed upturned at the thought of friends - real friends who went well out of their way to help her and Mr. Bates. Between the rumors and speculation about her involvement with Green and the police investigation, she'd lost sight of the fact that there were people who still cared about her. And they were not all people who looked at her with pity.

In fact, she had seen none in Mr. Molesley's eyes, only a determination to be useful to her and Mr. Bates. But as she well remembered, he had been on hard times before and could well appreciate the struggle to maintain one's dignity. If she could witness him in the village digging ditches and still afford him respect, then he could well do the same for her without a second's thought. And while she did not know Miss Baxter's story, she suspected the woman had also suffered low points in her life.

"Thank you again," she told them both, and this time it was not for the information they'd found out about Mr. Bates.

Despite the good news, Anna could not maintain any notion of cheer as Christmas quickly approached. A ball for the servants and tenants was scheduled for Christmas Eve, and everyone around her bustled with nervous energy at the chance to put on their simple finery and for one night pretend they were as highly stationed as the family.

But Anna's mind was ever absent, focused as she was on Mr. Bates far away in Ireland. She had heard nothing at all from him since his departure, and the separation impacted her deeply. Not since he'd gone with Vera back to London had he cut ties so dramatically. At least when they'd each been in prison she'd had the consolation of letters and visits. But now, there was nothing. He could be dead in a ditch somewhere for all she knew, and word of his fate might never reach her.

Mrs. Hughes tried to distract her, but she seemed preoccupied with her own affairs. Anna had heard that she and Mr. Carson were looking for a house together, an investment property like Mrs. Patmore had purchased for her retirement. While she tried to feel happy for the housekeeper, Anna could not help but feel a little resentful that she and Mr. Bates were not looking for their hotel at the same time.

In the end, Daisy was the one to convince her to go to the ball, even though she did not feel particularly festive. She wore one of her usual black dresses as it suited her dark mood. Unfortunately, the music and revelry of the others only reinforced her feeling of loneliness. Glancing to the side, she noticed when Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson left the hall, perhaps to have some private conversation about their property plans. Further down stood Mr. Molesley by Miss Baxter, each of them a little closer to the other than might be considered proper at any other time of year. Madge chattered with another maid, but as Anna met her gaze, she did not look away. Instead, she afforded her a small, shy smile.

Later in the evening, Lady Mary likewise gave Anna a gentle nod of acknowledgment, which helped to reinforce the notion that she was not without friends. Despite everything, the Bateses had always been welcome at Downton, and the Crawleys' continued patronage meant the world to Anna. Despite all the pain and fear and heartbreak, this place was her home. It was where she'd grown from a timid girl into a confident woman, where she'd met her husband and spent her wedding night, and where she'd celebrated every Christmas for over half of her life. The people around her were her only family now, and while Mrs. Hughes could never replace her mother or Daisy her sister, they were each kind and caring elements of her life. They helped her to weather the whispers and carry on, through it all.

As the evening continued, Anna felt the Christmas spirit start to touch her heart and rejuvenate her spirit. She allowed her mind to stray with the music, to think about past times of happiness and dream of a future ahead. She had always been a naturally optimistic person, although the past months - nay, years - had been trying on her outlook. But she could see that part of herself again, buried within but not lost.

She had just begun singing along to the music, her words so soft that only she could hear, when a voice from behind startled her.

 _His_ voice.

"Happy Christmas."

* * *

 _fin_


End file.
